brickclubfandomcom-20200213-history
2.1.4-Doeskin-pantaloons
Brick!Club 2.1.4: A I really like Hugo’s discussion of the light of history at the end of this chapter. Napoleon, at the time, seemed like an amazing guy, but Hugo sees himself as far enough away to discuss him in the ‘pitiless’ light of history. And yet we still have this: Napoleon on horseback, glass in hand, upon the heights of Rossomme, at daybreak, on June 18, 1815. All the world has seen him before we can show him. That calm profile under the little three-cornered hat of the school of Brienne, that green uniform, the white revers concealing the star of the Legion of Honor, his great coat hiding his epaulets, the corner of red ribbon peeping from beneath his vest, his leather trousers, the white horse with the saddle-cloth of purple velvet bearing on the corners crowned N’s and eagles, Hessian boots over silk stockings, silver spurs, the sword of Marengo,—that whole figure of the last of the Caesars is present to all imaginations Which, while not actaully containing any explicit praise, puts me immediately in mind of this: which is pretty high up there in the world of propaganda pieces. (My favourite part is that Napoleon has carved BONAPARTE into the rock of the Alps, right about HANNIBAL and KAROLUS MAGNUS. Because Hannibal was definitely carving his Romanised name about the place. All the time. Although we do have an interesting contrast here between Hugo calling him Caesar, and David alluding to Hannibal.) On the one hand, Hugo is able to step back and look at Napoleon from the distance of history, and see that there were good sides, and bad sides. On the other, although we praise Hugo for his great ability to humanise people, Napoleon is one of those people who I feel is never humanised. Even in the last chapter, when we asked all these questions about whether Napoleon was fading, he wasn’t a man, he was a class of men, of ‘the Hannibals and Bonapartes’ and also, now ‘the last of the Caesars’. Hugo is prone to exaggeration, and also to romanticisation, to some degree, so it’s not surprising that when presented with Napoleon he wants to paint this kind of picture, of a figure, rather than a man. The thing is, though, that he tries so hard to pretend that he isn’t, but ultimately I think Hugo’s desire to tell a good story, to show not just the human side, but also the magnificant side of battle gets in the way of his really characterising Napoleon. And of course, from our point of view, Hugo is not as far away from Napoleon as he thinks he is. (Even now, I remember in my year seven history class, the teacher mentioned Napoleon, and somebody put up their hand and asked, “Was Napoleon good?’ and there was just this really long, awkward silence.) I imagine that things would still get very awkward if Hugo said certain things about Napoleon. But I appreciate that he’s trying to see both sides of the affair. And succeeding, to a degree. Just also getting carried away with his romantic language, while he’s at it.